Collision
by LiveFastDieBeautiful21
Summary: As Tanya, Alistair, and Morrigan set off into the Brecilian Forest, they discover that someone has already been sent to search for Witherfang. Accompanies "Why The Hero of Ferelden Owes Me Lunch" but can be read alone.


**A/N: **As promised, Tanya and Co.'s venture into the Forest without Fiah.

This piece is meant to go along with my story "Why The Hero of Ferelden Owes Me Lunch" but that doesn't have to be read in order to enjoy this! If you haven't already checked it out, pretty please do!

Also, reviews full of suggestions/criticisms are always welcomed and loved!

Suggestions for other one-shots related to "Why The Hero of Ferelden Owes Me Lunch" are also welcomed!

* * *

"Oh, and, Warden?"

Tanya paused mid-step and spun around to face Zathrian. "Yes?

"You aren't the first to venture out into the forest," the Keeper warned, his eyes cold. "We've already sent another outsider to take care of Witherfang."

"If there is someone already out there, let _them_ take care of your problem," Morrigan snorted. "Assuming they aren't as dim-witted as our Templar, that is."

"Morrigan," Tanya sighed, motioning for the witch to silence. "Thank you for letting us know, Zathrian. We'll return as soon as we can." With another tired sigh, Tanya led the way out of the Dalish camp and into the Brecilian Forest, praying to the Maker that Alistair and Morrigan would, for the love of everything holy, _shut up_.

It was no secret that they didn't like each other, and it was quickly becoming apparent that Tanya had no love for Morrigan, either. But with Ferelden and the rest of Thedas depending on their trio—and the word of a strange city elf—Tanya had figured they could at least_ pretend_ they were getting along.

But, no. Her two companions traded increasingly heated insults, and Tanya did her best to avoid being caught in the crossfire.

They hadn't even arrived at the Dalish camp until well after midday, and by the time they'd left again, it was well into the later hours of the evening. Tanya—who was beginning to hate the outdoors—decided it was best if they set up camp early, so before the sun had even dipped under the barely-visible horizon, she and Alistair were seated around a small fire and Morrigan was, thankfully, elsewhere.

"Do you think she'll come back?"

Tanya shrugged. She wanted to trust Fiah, so much so that it made her think of her father's gentle yet constant chastising. He'd always said she was too soft for politics. "I like to think she will."

They sat in silence after that, not quite awkward but certainly not comfortable. As the fire began to die down, Tanya found herself wondering why they'd even bothered with one. Under the thick canopy of the forest, the dense air was swelteringly _hot_. She decided that, for a single night, she could go without her noblewoman's sense of decency. Excusing herself for a moment, Tanya slipped into her tent and shrugged off her leather armor, only able to replace it with some old pants and a rather indecent undershirt.

Tanya remained in her tent a moment longer than was necessary, debating whether or not the shirt was too revealing to go back out and rejoin Alistair. Her mother—_no, not Mother. Don't think about Mother_. The stuffy women who came to the Landsmeet each year would have thrown a fit at Tanya's appearance, but in the muggy heat of the Forest, she couldn't afford to worry about that.

No, she had to worry about the health of herself and Alistair, and then she had to worry about finding Witherfang. On that note, Tanya emerged from the tent and joined Alistair at the fire, crossing her arms self-consciously as soon as she sat down.

"We should cross into the other part of the forest tomorrow," she suggested, her voice small. "We should start looking for Witherfang and the other outsider as soon as we can."

"The other outsider," Alistair echoed. "Who do you think it is?"

"I have no idea."

"What exactly happened in Highever?"

Tanya stiffened unconsciously, entirely unprepared for Alistair's question. She hadn't known the Warden long, but she knew enough to know that he didn't enjoy personal questions—asking or answering them.

"I'm sorry," he apologized, shaking his head, before Tanya could even begin to respond. "I don't know why I asked. It's just…" Alistair paused and gave a sigh before continuing. "Sometimes I feel like you lost a lot more than your family. Just like I lost a lot more than my Commander when—at Ostagar."

"I did," she admitted, barely able to hear her own voice above the crackle of the dying fire. In truth, she'd lost everything—her name, her status, her wealth. But she didn't mention this to Alistair; instead, Tanya simply revealed a different truth. "I lost my two best friends. I had a Mabari, and I also had a friend who was a knight. My friend was killed defending the entrance, and my Mabari was killed trying to cover me while I fled the—" She paused suddenly, about to say _the estate_. "Town. When I fled town." For some reason, a reason she wasn't quite sure of, Tanya didn't want Alistair to know that she was Tanya _Cousland_, daughter of the teyrn and quite possibly the only person who could challenge Loghain and Anora's claim to the throne of Ferelden.

Besides, her heritage had become irrelevant after she'd been made a Grey Warden.

Hadn't it?

It didn't matter, anyway. Tanya didn't want to contest Anora's claim, and she was afraid that Alistair's hatred of Loghain might drive him to suggest that she do exactly that. So, her name remained secret.

She felt bad about keeping such a weighty secret. She really did.

A sudden wave of nausea plagued her, and Tanya quickly excused herself, making a beeline for her tent. She had made it about halfway when she saw the eyes.

Not quite human, the golden eyes peered back at her lifelessly, surrounded by charcoal fur. Tanya's first instinct was to cry out for Ser Gilmore, but as soon as his name escaped her lips she remembered that it was Alistair, not Gilmore, who would come to her aid.

The eyes dropped from view and Tanya reached for her daggers, only to find that they were back in her tent, well out of reach. By that time, Alistair was at her side, sword drawn, but the eyes were gone.

"What was that?"

"I don't know," Tanya admitted. As the adrenaline drained from her, she began to shake. As much as she'd loved training in the forests and clearings of Highever, she'd never been forced to stay in them overnight, and she'd most certainly never had to deal with wild animals—if the creature she'd seen even _was _a wild animal.

"We can build the fire up again," Alistair suggested lightly, awkwardly taking one of Tanya's hands and leading her back to the fire pit. They hadn't even sat down when they heard the rustling. Alistair leapt forward, shielding Tanya protectively, but nothing came forward. They waited for a moment, Alistair with his sword and shield, Tanya with baited breath, and after a few seconds, an elf emerged from the trees.

Alistair—much to Tanya's relief—had the good sense not to attack the newcomer, and she in turn didn't attack the two of them. However, the warrior didn't move from in front of Tanya. "Who are you?" he demanded. "You don't look Dalish."

"No, I'm not Dalish," she scoffed. "I'm from the city. I'm _helping_ the Dalish." She shook her head, her face plastered with disgust. "What are _you_ doing?"

At this, Alistair stepped aside and looked sidelong at Tanya. Taking a bit of initiative, she sighed and forced herself to smile up at the elf. "We're here helping the Dalish, as well. I suppose you're the other outsider they sent to find Witherfang?"

In response, the elf cocked an eyebrow. "I've already _found_ Witherfang. If you're looking for her, then follow me. I know where she is, but I can't fight my way through four dozen werewolves by myself."

"Her?"

"Her."

"Oh." Tanya looked up at Alistair, who shrugged. "Well, you're welcome to stay in camp with us tonight, and we'll head out in the morning."

The elf shook her head again. "We head out _now_. I don't want to spend another night in this forest if I don't have to."

Tanya deflated a bit. She looked up at the dark sky with an inward groan, then conceded, "Alright. Alistair, you start packing the tents and I'll go find Morrigan."

"Great." The elf took a step backwards, grabbing something that Tanya couldn't make out in the dim light. "My name's Kielle, by the way. And if you want to get through the forest, you'll each want one of these." With a grunt, the elf plopped a half dozen werewolf pelts in front of her.

Tanya wasn't sure if it was divine luck or a bad omen; either way, Kielle had just made saving Ferelden much, much easier.


End file.
